


Improper Usage of  Firearm

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom John, Dog Tags, Facials, Gunplay, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Military Kink, Military Uniforms, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of roleplay never hurt anyone. Especially when Sherlock has John on his knees and calling him Sir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Improper Usage of  Firearm

Sherlock Holmes could have been a great actor. John was always surprised at the changes that could come over him when he took on a role, whether it was in dealing with a suspect or a witness, or, like now, just in their flat. He’d somehow acquired his own officer’s uniform, looking imperiously down at John with a swagger stick tucked under his arm. John himself was wearing camouflage, maybe a little tight around the belly these days, but it still carried a faint smell of sand and sweat.

“I think you need punished, don’t you, Private?” Sherlock’s voice carried cold authority. 

Even though John was a terrible actor and it was a long time since boot camp, it was easy enough to fall into this role. “Yes, Sir.”

“Over the table, stance wide.”

“Sir.” John obeyed, bending himself over the table, legs spread as he clutched the far edge.

There was the heavy sound of boots moving around the flat, just long enough for John to relax. Which was when the swagger stick cracked across his ass, making him cry out. He braced himself as it came down again, panting, cock straining painfully against his trousers.

Sherlock leaned over him, breath hot in his ear. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” he growled.

“Then teach me, _Sir_ ,” answered John before he could catch his words back.

Sherlock pulled him back and pushed him to his knees. “I think there’s other things you should be doing with your mouth, rather than talking back to your betters.”

“Yes Sir,” breathed John, looking up with eyes gone dark.

“No hands. Use your mouth,” ordered Sherlock, tapping his shoulder with the stick.

“Sir.” John knelt up and got his fly open with teeth. He breathed in the scent of Sherlock, nosing against his still clothed cock. Of course the git was wearing pants. John tried to put his mind back in the right place and looked up at him as he pulled the band down with his teeth and slowly licked around the head. He watched as Sherlock’s eyes went dark, a sharp intake of breath.

Carefully, he sucked the head into his mouth.

One of Sherlock’s hands rested on his shoulder. “Good, Private,” he breathed. 

John sucked more of him in his mouth, listening to hitches in his breathing that were the only indications that he was having an effect. Finally, Sherlock pulled him back off. John’s own cock ached, pressed against his trousers. Licking his lips, Sherlock walked around him. He put the swagger stick on the table, left him kneeling there and went into the kitchen. Sherlock returned in a moment, John’s gun in his hands. 

“This is your weapon, Private?”

John’s heart skipped, wondering what Sherlock had in mind. He could see the safety was on and the clip was out, but his adrenalin still spiked. “Yes, Sir.”

Sherlock looked down at him, taking the time to show the chamber was clear before taking the cold steel and dragging it down John’s jaw. This was doing nothing to flag his erection and as the barrel came under his chin and pulled away; John leaned in to wrap his mouth around it, trying not think about having to clean it later.

Grabbing his hair, Sherlock tugged, keeping him in the moment. “That’s right, Private. Get it nice and wet because I am going to fuck you with it.”

 _Oh god_. John groaned and closed his eyes, tasting the gunpowder residue as his mouth slid up and down the barrel.

Sherlock could be patient when he wished to be, and he let John go for a few minutes, until his jaw started to ache. But he didn’t dare stop until finally the gun was taken away from him. “Drop your trousers and pants and bend over the table.”

John scrambled to obey, dropping his trousers and bending over, gripping the far edge again. 

“No pants. That’s not proper uniform.” Sherlock dragged the gun down his spine before setting it aside. John moaned as a lubed finger pressed into him. He dropped his head to the solid table with a thunk and released a moan.

When three fingers easily moved inside of him, Sherlock picked up the gun. He placed one hand on the base of John’s spine to keep him in place and began to work the weapon inside.

“God,” groaned John, fists flexing around the far edge of the table. It was strange, but not unpleasant, as Sherlock carefully worked it deeper.

“You’re doing so well,” murmured Sherlock, twisting the gun inside of him, seeking the prostate until John cried out, cock leaking heavily. “Hmm, should I fuck you with the gun then make you kneel and stroke yourself off? Should I get you off with a gun in your arse? Simply fuck you? So many choices.”

John groaned, unable to offer an opinion on the matter as another spark of pleasure wiped his mind clear. He was helpless, legs starting to shake as Sherlock fucked him slowly and carefully, pushing him closer and closer to orgasm.

Just as John neared his climax, Sherlock carefully withdrew the weapon, leaving him panting. His lover eased him down to his knees. John looked up at him, waiting for direction. Sherlock smirked, though his eyes were heated. He gave his own cock a stroke and placed the head against John’s parted mouth. “Get yourself off.”

“Sir,” breathed John, darting his tongue out to lick a drop of precome. Sherlock reached down with his other hand and pulled his dog tags out of his shirt, holding them in his fist. He stared down at John as the soldier stroked himself furiously, eyes snapping shut as he came over his hand with a groan.

“Look at me,” ordered Sherlock after the immediate aftershocks had died down.

John’s eyes opened again, still looking up at him, the held chain pressing lightly against his throat. Sherlock gave his own cock one more stroke before coming across John’s lips, striking his cheek as he pulled back a bit, John’s tongue darting out to lick up what he could.

Sherlock dropped the chain to lean down and kiss John hungrily. Moaning, John responded in kind, reaching up to hold Sherlock, pulling him down to the floor with him. They spent the next several minutes kissing each other, hands dragging through the sticky mess to feed to one another. 

Finally, John stood, still a bit shaky. He smiled down at Sherlock. “I’m going to take a shower. Maybe you can clean my gun while I’m in there.”

“I think I’d rather join you in the shower. Besides you say I never do a proper job.” Sherlock stood, looking at him with amusement.

“True enough, true enough.” John leaned in close to him. “But next time you’ll be on the receiving end.”

Sherlock shivered and stole one more kiss before heading for the en suite. John smiled and followed after

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to beautifullyheeled and HumsHappily.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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